Feathered Dragon mt-3

by Douglas Niles

  “Yes.”

  “And the god will arrive there?” Halloran asked.

  “I think so,” Erix replied. She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know! I can only do what seems right’”

  She gasped in sudden pain and bent double. “It’s… all right,” she said, pushing herself along.

  The ground rose beneath them as they moved onto the bluff that formed the broad headland of the point. Silently they walked on, pushing along the fringe of brushy ground between the deep jungle and the sheer drop toward the wave-battered shore below.

  Then Halloran stopped, raising a hand before him and soundlessly pointing. Erix looked and saw it, too, even though the moon had set an hour before. She would never forget that horrible place where she had come so close to death.

  Before them stood the squared bulk of the pyramid and Twin Visages- Beyond, etched in streaks of sunset, stretched the lagoon and the endless ocean. They couldn’t see the top of the pyramid, but the last rays of the sun brightened the side facing them.

  Erixitl groaned again in sudden pain. With a gasp, she grabbed her belly and sank slowly to the ground.

  Flames exploded into the dark sky from one after another of the huts of Nayap. Metal-armored soldiers from Amn fought desperately for each square foot of ground, making the beasts pay for every forward step with one, two, a dozen lives. But the monstrous army could afford the price.

  Finally the defenders gathered around the pyramid attacked on three sides by a howling, slavering mass. Fire and ash and smoke drifted around the squat structure, though the din of battle drowned any sound of the blaze.

  A great ogre bulled his way onto the steps of the pyramid, crushing the skull of a metal-helmed soldier with a blow of his heavy club. Laying about him to the right and left, the beast lumbered up several steps. A swordsman leaped at it from the side, driving a steel blade deep into the beast’s thigh. With a howl, the ogre turned, seizing the courageous soldier as the monster tumbled down the steps, crushing the life out of the man during the brutal fall.

  In the meantime, a thousand ores-a full regiment of the beasts-pressed around behind the village. The insect plague cast by the cleric had dissipated by now, and the few warriors who stood in the regiment’s path had been brushed easily aside.

  Even as the defenders fought courageously to hold their key outpost to the last, the monstrous advance slowly cut them off from all retreat. In the smoke and the chaos of the night battle, this maneuver went undetected until it was too late. Abruptly the men on the pyramid realized that the village had been taken around them and that all connection with the rest of their army had been severed.

  And now the breach in the pyramid’s defense had been opened. More ogres, followed by ores, rushed onto the side of the structure. The archers atop the pyramid poured a deadly fire into the creatures’ faces, sending many of them tumbling back. But others-others without number, seemingly without fear-advanced from the darkness to take their places, and slowly the beasts pressed higher up the four sloping sides of the pyramid.

  The arrows of the defenders couldn’t last forever, and when the last missile was exhausted, the archers drew their short swords and prepared to die fighting. Now, with the village in flames around them, the pyramid cut off by the ores behind it, they could think no longer of escape. They could only fight and die like the men they were. In another moment, the last of them fell, and a dozen ores howled their triumph from the top of the structure.

  Back! Fall back!” Cordell shouted the command, and trumpets brayed in echo. Along his line, decimated by the first phase of the battle, the exhausted fighters pulled away

  from the equally exhausted monsters. The second rank of Zaltec’s attack rushed across the muddied ground, still a mile from the withdrawing defenders.

  Nayap, the foremost village in the defensive line, now spouted smoke and ash, a funeral pyre for the men who had died there. Indeed, the only men remaining in the village were those who were dead.

  “Where to?” grunted Grimes, riding beside the cap general.

  “Hold Actas” The captain-general pointed to the v that formed the inland end of his line. “Hold it at all but we’ve got to shorten the line! Keep your riders ready watch our flank!” Cordell gestured to Daggrande, who trotted over to him.

  “Divide your men into two companies,” the commander ordered. “If all else fails, you’ll have to cover our withdrawal into the fort.”

  “All right,” grunted the dwarf, grimacing at the thought of splitting his already depleted company. He saw the line shortening as the companies of Mazticans and foreigners drew closer together, filling in the gaps left by their fallen comrades.

  The second wave of the monstrous attack now rumbled through the line of the first battle, knocking their own battered comrades aside. The beasts lumbered through the smoldering ruins of Nayap, paying no attention to the bodies around them, uncaring even whether the fallen had been human or their own bestial kin.

  Some of the survivors of the first attack, the most aggressive among the monsters, joined in the second wave, and a powerful force of ores, ogres, and trolls rushed toward the narrowed band of defenders.

  Once again the shower of arrows, the thunder of the harquebusiers, the speeding darts of crossbow and halfling, took their bloody toll of the attackers. But now there were fewer missiles and more monsters. The effect could only be lessened.

  The first of the attacking regiments crashed into the thin rank of the desert dwarves under Luskag. But here the monsters, who towered over their diminutive opponents, as well as outnumbered them, met a rude surprise.

  The dwarves ducked low at the first impact of the charge, darting beneath the shields and raised weapons of the attackers. Their keen weapons, with the razorlike edges of plumastone, struck upward, and hundreds of ores reeled backward, screaming and wailing in agony. The wounded monsters fell and writhed and died, and the desert dwarves attacked their ogre masters, slicing and slashing with their murderous blades of shiny black stone.

  Even the ogres fell as the nimble dwarves twisted around them, evading the heavy but clumsy blows of the monsters. In moments, the entire regiment fell back, the beastly faces of its troops distorted by fear of these small, ferocious slayers. The shrewd Luskag, however, allowed only a moment’s pursuit before calling his warriors back into line.

  Other regiments of Hoxitl’s horde turned from their advance to press the desert dwarf force with renewed vigor. This could have proven a critical weakening of the cleric-beast’s attack, except that nowhere else along the line were the defenders prepared to resist so sturdily as in that portion manned by the desert dwarves.

  On this assault, two of Hoxitl’s great regiments swung wide of the line, passing around the far village of Actas. The rest of the force lumbered into the thin line, and once again the defenders struggled to hold.

  Cordell looked to his left as a series of torches waved through the field. A small band of Payit warriors, concealed in the grass before Actas, held up the suddenly blazing brands. In the yellow light, the commander saw the movement of the monsters that attempted to move past the village.

  “Grimes! Slow them up!” shouted the captain-general, and his commander of horsemen immediately urged his steed forward.

  The lancers once again swept around the end of the defenders’ line in order to prevent a flanking movement such as they had earlier destroyed.

  The cavalry thundered forward, ripping into the ranks of

  the monstrous regiments. First one, then a second of the ‘ formations turned and scattered under the onrush. The horsemen wheeled, lances and swords lowered, and started toward the flank of a third regiment.

  But here the monsters changed tactics. As Grimes led the riders forward, the ores suddenly broke into three huge blocks. The beasts in each block pivoted on all four sides, so that everywhere they faced outward. The horsemen rode into the side of one of these crude squares, trampling many of the monsters.

  The for
mation, however, did not break. Slowly, grimly, the beasts of the Viperhand fought the riders who now bucked and trampled in their midst. These creatures did not turn and expose their vulnerable backs; instead, they attacked, slashing viciously at the legs and flanks of the pitching horses.

  Turning and plunging, the riders tried to work free. The steeds reared and trampled, while the horsemen hacked about with their bloody blades. Finally, with a lunge between two huge ogres, Grimes drove his stallion free of the melee, beheading one of the ogres as he raced past. The rest of the riders followed, quickly widening the gap made by their captain.

  Elsewhere, the leading regiments smashed into the thin line of Cordell’s defenders. Daggrande threw one, and then the second, of his reserve companies into the line, each time barely stopping a critical breakthrough.

  Magic missiles crackled on die right flank, where the two dozen mages who had come with Don Vaez sniped at the enemy from the walls of Helmsport itself. The din of magic and fire, of death and destruction, crashed across the field, rising to a nightmarish crescendo.

  Desperately the horsemen charged again, slashing and chopping their way into, and then free of, the monstrous ranks. Another regiment hurled itself at the riders, threatening to surround them again, and it took all of Grimes’s leadership and courage to break his men free of the enemy. Even so, they left dozens of their number behind.

  Every man, every dwarf and halfling, fought for his life in this night without end. The cloud cover thickened, the light spells waned, and they fought on in nearly total darkness. Somehow the desperation to live gave them enough vision to combat the pressing horde.

  Again and again the riders slashed at the fringe of the attacking mass, always springing away before the jaws of another trap could snap shut. Crossbows and steel swords drank deep of monstrous blood, while the boom of a harquebus occasionally cracked across the field.

  The kurari-tipped arrows of the Little Men found the trolls, for they had learned that these weapons, when they struck with adequate numbers, could actually slay the hulking green beasts that simply regenerated after suffering other types of wounds. The plumastone axes of the desert dwarves chopped and gouged, holding great presses of ores at bay.

  Then another great cry erupted from the forest, piercing the night with its promise of catastrophe. Whistles and horns and drums added to the din, and the legionnaires and the other defenders knew clearly that the noise sounded an end to their hopes.

  And inflamed the desires of Hoxitl, for now the lord of the beasts threw his final ten regiments into the battle.

  “Hsst! There’s something out there!” Darien could scarcely control the savage joy in her voice. The light.’ The treasure she had so long envisioned, the killing she had lusted for, at last drew near.

  The other driders huddled on the platform atop the pyramid, thankful that the moon had already set. Like shadows of black thicker even than the forest, they clung to the edges of the structure and peered into the murky forest surrounding them.

  “It comes from Ulatos, from the city,” said Hittok after a moment. Darien, too, sensed that the menace lay to the west.

  Gradually the driders’ keen eyes detected the shapes moving from the jungle into the near pitch-blackness of (he clearing. In Darien’s sight, one of these glowed, so brightly that she could scarce dare to breath. Against that halo of hot, tempting light, she could not make out the identity of the treasure.

  But already she began to savor the thought of its death.

  “Shall we strike them down with arrows?” asked Hittok, his voice a bare breath of wind against Darien’s perspiring cheek.

  “No!” In her agitation, she spoke louder than she had in-tended. The driders held their breath as the humans below hesitated, but it was not Darien’s remark that had alerted them.

  Staring into that light, Darien saw that one of the humans moved slowly, as if in pain. Then she began to see… it was her, Halloran’s woman! She was the burning force that! tempted the drider’s appetite.

  “No,” the white creature hissed, softly this time, “No arrows. We shall await them here, and when they start up the steps, we shall attack.”

  “Very well,” said Hittok, slinging his bow over his shoulder and pulling forth his dark, black sword.

  “And know this,” Darien cautioned, tension again ringing.; in her voice. “All of you remember: When we attack, the woman is mine!”

  Erixitl collapsed with an inarticulate groan of pain. She curled up into a ball of misery, wincing from the pain of a I sudden contraction.

  “The baby!» she whispered. “Now is the time!”

  Halloran’s mind went blank. All during the march, through the months in the desert and jungle, during their entire epic journey to Ulatos, he had been telling himself, preparing for this event. But now that his wife lay here in agony, he couldn’t think of a thing to do.

  “The pyramid!” said Lotil quietly. “We must take her up the pyramid!”

  Halloran looked at the blind man in astonishment. “That has to wait!” He turned back to his wife. “We’ll get you back to the woods, to some mossy clearing. It’s going to be all right!”

  “No!” Erixitl’s voice carried surprising strength. “Lotil is right. We must go up the pyramid!”

  Halloran looked from daughter to father in astonishment. His eyes met Coton’s, and the cleric looked at him with an expression of deep understanding-but also of steely-eyed will. Halloran knew that they had to ascend the steep stairway with Erixitl. The destiny that had driven them this far now compelled her presence atop the looming structure.

  “The baby!” he protested. “We must get her to shelter and make her comfortable!”

  “Listen!” Erix gasped, her teeth clenching. “On the pyramid! Take me to the altar!”

  Halloran stared at her in disbelief. It was the same altar where she had so nearly met her own death! What if this was the cost of the god’s return, a ghastly sacrifice of his wife or his child?

  “No!” Hal couldn’t allow it. He stood firmly against the men, but he couldn’t ignore his wife’s groan, and when he looked down at her and saw the pleading in her eyes, he was lost. “Very well,” he said quietly, kneeling beside her again.

  “The pain has passed for the moment,” said Erix, slowly sitting up and climbing to her feet. “Let’s go!”

  Jhatli led them toward the base of the stairway. Around them, the deep black of the night closed in, past moonset, as a last shroud of darkness before the first traces of dawn. Feeling his way rather than seeing anything in particular, he started up the stairs.

  He had taken no more than four steps when strong, sinewy arms grasped him. A hand clapped roughly across his mouth, and insistent arms pulled him against a body.

  A body covered by a hard, bony shell.

  From the chronicles of Coton:

  The beasts of darkness sweep from the steps of the pyramid. Jhatli, taken first, struggles for a moment and then grows still.

  I stare in consternation and cannot help but recoil, for these are beasts every bit as corrupted as the creatures of the Viperhand. They bear every mark of a god’s punishment, in their misshapen bodies, their fur-covered, spider-like legs.

  Now, among the creatures of night, I see one of pale whiteness, standing apart from the rest, looming over us all as we look upward from the ground. This one, clearly female, is full of might and danger.

  And this one also is a creature of talonmagic. I sense the power of Zaltec within her, and I know that she is a menace that must be destroyed.

  21

  A WINDSWEPT DAWN

  Possessed by his full battle instincts, Halloran did not stop to think. Through the dark of the black night, he saw the horrible shapes descending the pyramid as the first one grabbed Jhatli and held the youth several steps up from the structure’s base.

  Instantly Helmstooth gleamed in his hand. In another moment, the sticky black blood of the leading drider dripped from the blade. The creature died
as it stepped onto the ground, and the next one backed cautiously upward, away from Halloran.

  With their eight legs, the driders had little difficulty supporting themselves on the steep stairway. Keen eyes, adapted to complete darkness, gave them an additional advantage in the Stygian night. Helmstooth’s glow faded almost to insignificance against the opacity surrounding them.

  Help!” cried Jhatli, trying to twist away from “the powerful black arms encircling him. He kicked reflexively, shocked by the suddenness of the attack and by the ghastly nature of his opponent. The driders moved around him, and he saw three of them advance on Halloran on the ground below.

  Erixitl sank to the ground beside Hal, and the terrible knowledge of her vulnerability was like a physical tie binding him to her. The fight was inevitable; indeed, it had already begun, and he could not allow it to rage at his wife’s side. Coton and Lotil went to the woman as the swordsman advanced to Jhatli’s aid, stepping onto the first steps of the pyramid.

  “Get it off me!” Jhatli squirmed in the drider’s grasp as another of the creatures rushed at him, raising a keen black blade. Helmstooth came between them, deflecting the drider’s blade as Hal climbed up another step. He lunged upward, driving the tip of his blade into the flank of the drider holding Jhatli, and the youth tumbled free. Halloran de-fleeted two attacking driders, backing down the steps until once more he stood upon level ground.

  Jhatli sprang to his feet beside him, drawing his own shortsword. The steel blade gleamed, reflecting Helms-tooth’s brightness almost as if it held a fire of its own.

  Behind them, Erixitl moaned again, and more of the driders swept toward them. Both of their blades clashed with dark steel, and then another pair of driders tried to slip past them. Jhatli spun to the side, lashing outward, but his inexperience with the blade proved a costly handicap.

  The drider met his thrust squarely and parried the blade downward and away, to Jhatli’s right. For a brief moment, the youth’s chest and stomach lay exposed to attack, and the drider was swift to capitalize. His black blade darted down, thrust powerfully forward, and Jhatli gasped in pain. Blood spurted from a deep wound, and he collapsed, motionless, in the dust.